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Chimes & 
Humoresques 



% ERNEST M. HUNT 

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Copyrighted July, 1918 
Ernest M. Hunt 






©CU501199 

JUL IBiyib 



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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS are due: 
Bruno's Weekly, The Conservator, 
Greenwich Village Anthology of Verse, 
The Little Review, The Lyric, The 
Evening Call, The Pagan, The Quill, 
Slate, The Survey. 



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PRELUDE 

In this contented church the lights are dim, 

The organ is playing A Vesper Hymn 

And evening scenes crowd in melodious throngs: 

A mountain shepherd pipes a plaintive air; 
A forest bird sings mellow, sun-set songs; 

Mild chapel chimes call the righteous to prayer — 
What knows, what cares, this audience of wrongs 
Where workmen sweat on machines — pounding, grim — 
And where the factory whistle is a vesper hymn? 



CHIMES AND HUMORESQUES 



LAMENT 

There is truth in the visions of the poets, 
But few are those that trust the poets' dreams. 
There is a summons in the hymns of the prophets, 
But few are those that follow the prophets' psalms. 

They live, 

That see and follow, 

That hear and obey. 

They die 

That sigh, "How beautiful," 

And then forget. 



CHIMES AND HUMORESQUES 



MIDNIGHT AT THE GRAVE OF 
EDGAR ALLAN POE 

Midnight is coming soon. 
Down the mole-colored streets, 
Through the dense, black alleys, 
To this dark corner, 
Midnight is coming soon. 

The sleepy trolly lopes by, 

Its bumping softened in the furry haze ; 

Midnight is coming soon, 

Soon through the silent, deserted streets — 

Soon through the unwholesome, opened-drained alleys — 

Soon through the cramped alleys troubled by the urge 

of spring — 
Midnight is coming soon — 
Soon to this quiet corner 
Midnight is coming. 

A scream, 

A woman's scream breaks from the throttled quarters. 

Shouts . . . scurrying feet run through the alleys. 

A 'policeman's whistle — 

Silence falls . . . midnight is coming soon. 

The clanging patrol drives by, 

Up a crowded alley whose shadowy windows are full 

of craning necks and staring white eyeballs. 
Bravely the offenders are loaded 
And sated with its prey 
The patrol draws slowly away . . . 
Midnight is combing soon. 



CHIMES AND H U M O R E S Q U E S 



Midnight, 

Unseeing, unheeding midnight 

Has passed this abandoned corner by 

She has passed by the squalor and the sorrow: 

She did not pause to see the injustice nor to hear the 

lies; 
Heeding not the lynchings, the burning stakes, the 

blistering tar, 
She did not pause to ease the pain nor to shroud the 

broken heart. 
She brought no comfort 
To this hopeless corner : 
But on the distant cathedral bell. 
She chimes out her death-charmed chant: 



All . , 


. . is . 


. . well 


All . . 


. . is . , 


. . well 


All . . 


, . is . , 


. . well 



CHIMES AND HUxMORESQUES 



A RAILWAY CLERK PAUSES IN GRAND 
CENTRAL TERMINAL 

I. 

Yesterday I stood in an open green field under the 

jaunty blue sky : 
There the gleaming green calamus blades were waving; 
There the red-winged blackbirds were calling "kah-ling, 

kah-lee." 
There on a calamus blade I saw a fresh-born butterfly 

expanding its glossy black wings in the breeze. 
There the wild blue-flags were blooming, in the open, 

sun-lit field. 

II. 

Today I stand here. 

The straight-edged, tawny pillars hold high the 

viridescent, forget-me-not blue. 
The shining pale sky beats against the iron-fretted 

eastern windows. 
Here comes the care-vv^orn multitude to its daily labor, 

hurrying, pausing not to worship — 
Here passes the confident, tireless masters. 
Through here I have heard a gleeful chorus of fresh 

air children singing and sturdily marching on to 

the benison of the open green fields. 
I have seen khaki-clad columns of soldiers treading 

down the winding staircase. 
I have seen rows of white-capped sailors lining those 

galleries. 
Here I have heard the exotic love songs of red and 

orange-sashed Hawaiian minstrels, 
Here I have heard plantation lullabies sung by mellow- 
voiced Red Caps. 
Here I have paused while all others have hurried on 

and on. 



CHIMES AND HUMORESQUES 



III. 

I have paused here when the lazy warm sunshine 
slanted in from the west and the city toilers 
with their treasured days of leisure fled to the 
lakes and hills. 

I have paused here when the faithful train crews, 
carrying their train kits in their aching hands, 
were returning from their struggles with frozen 
switches, the wind and sifting snow. 

I have watched here as battle-mawed heroes passed on 
their way home from the front. 

I have watched when the melons of light began to 
glow and the trooping commuters began to 
swing down the long-vistaed ramps. 

I have watched while the throngs came and loaded 
the fortuned youth of the city into the long 
sleepers bounded for the camps on the shore, 
by the lakes, in the mountains. 

I have watched the grease-blacked car inspectors 
swing their blue lanterns and bob out from 
underneath the waiting cars. 

And I have watched the trains pull out through the 
black tunnel with its marvelous blue lights and 
its suspicious-eyed red signals — 
Out through the tunnels, across the bridges and 

over the trestles — 
Out beyond the city and along the river side — 
Through the fields and up the mountain ledges — 
The trains have sped over the ringing steel rails: 
On . . . on . . . and on they have rushed, 
carrying the workers, the masters, the children, 
the soldiers, the sailors, the minstrels, the 
wounded, the health-seekers ; the careless and 
the gay : the mourning and the burdened ; the 
wronged and the despised. 



CHIMES AND HU MORESQUES 



On . . . on . . . and on, past the watchful 
signal towers and past the lifted arms of the 
semaphores. 

On . . . on . . . and on they are drawn. 

On to the roadsides where the wild roses are 
blooming; 

On to the open fields where the calamus is waving. 



TV. 



But today I tarry here and consider the life and the 
bounties received through you, Oh, Brother 
Railroad Men. 

The thoughtless and the troubled have passed on, 

But I tarry today and send out my thanks to you : 

Surveyors and engineers who planned the way ; 

Laborers who gorged the cuts and graded the roadbed ; 

Drillers, powdermen, mechanics, carpenters, and 
masons; 

Ironworkers, bridge builders, derrickmen ; 

Bargemen, yardworkers, and signal men ; 

Conductors, engineers, firemen, brakemen, and switch- 
men; 

Electricians trackmen, and maintainers ; 

Dispatchers, towermen, operators, clerks — 

I thank you all. 

The crowds pass on. 



V. 



Oh Brother Railroad Workers, 

I have nothing to give you but my thanks, 

I have nothing to oflfer you but my pledge to play well 

my small melody in the great Symphony of the 

Singing Rails. 



CHIMES AND HU MORESQUES 



A CLERK TO HIS ALARM CLOCK 

AA^hat hand placed you there on the chair beside my 

bed? 
What hand, I say, 

What insidious hand placed you there 
Where you watch me with your sharp, prying eye, 
Where you tick away the night and tick away the day, 
Where you have laughed as I was joyfully transported 

in my dreams? 

You have laughed. 

While I have sailed the sunny blue Mediterranean in 

a purple-sailed Phoenician fleet — 
While I have floated down the Nile in the amorous 

arms of a princess — 
While I have pondered in the shadowy garden of a 

Grecian temple — 
While with Caesar I have commanded the tough Roman 

legions and led the riotous triumphs — 
While with the Crusaders I zealously marched — 
While with Luther I preached — 
While at Valley Forge I suffered — 
You have laughed. 

What hand placed you there where you try to march 
the helter-skelter rhythm of my dreams to your 
metalic Click-tick, Click-tick, Click-tick, Click- 
tick? 

What hand placed you there to snicker at my nightly 
yearnings for my far-of¥, reluctant love? 

What hand will draw away and try to hide in the 
vanishing darkness on the morning of the joyful 
day on which we workmen will free ourselves, 
and you will wake me for the last time with 
your hated buzz, rattle, and ring? 



CHIMES AND HU MORESQUES 



A DAY IN WINTER 

The muffled world doth lay in fluffed white and dull 
grey. 
Aside the bluish shades of night are slowly drawn — 
Behold, the tardy light climbs thru the hazy dawn — 

With gold piled high, the rising sun begins its sway. 

The blinding sun is high and shines from^ out the sky 
Of blued blue. The icy silver sends far-flashed 
Reflections as to earth long prisms from eaves are 
crashed. 

The sun, receding, shows that noon is past and by. 

The sun beyond the hills has fallen and it fills 
The sky with glowing orange , . . paling fast to 

grey 
As long and blue shadows across the valleys stray. 
Crisp white and sombre grey our world rests as fate 
wills. 



Oh God, be my light 
All thru the coming night. 

Oh God, be my sun 
Until another day's begun! 



CHIMES AND HUMORESQUES 



THE WINDS, THE BELLS 

On, on, ye winds! 
Your keen breath sending the cutting sleet 
Against the weary trudgers thru the city street. 

On, on, ye winds! 
Over the fallen wayfarer blow 
With thy chilly breath that speaks of death 
And bury him in the frozen snow. 

On, on, ye winds! 
Against the cottage pane rattle the hail. 
Sound thy dreadful wail. 
Till the lone wife within turns pale. 

On, on, ye winds! 
Pause not in your flurried flight ! 
On ! on ! into the night 
Soften thy cruel breath with this message of light: 



Strength . 


. . to the weak 


1 


Warmth . 


. . to the cold! 




Sight . . 


. to the blind ! 




Life . . 


. to the dying! 




Peace . . . peace . . . 
the distressed. 


peace 



to 



CHIMES AND H U M O R E S Q U E S 



A CHRISTMAS CAROL 

Brightly burn, our Christmas candles three; 
Burn, brightly burn; 

One for Joseph, 

One for Mary, 
And one for the infant Jesus, 

Brightly burn. 

Brightly burn, our Christmas candles three; 
Burn, brightly burn; 

One for love hymns, 

One for peace stars. 
And one for the birth of Justice, 

Brightly burn. 

Light the way, our Christmas candles three 
Light, light the way 

For Liberty, 

Equality, 
And for the Brotherhood of Man — 

Light the way! 



C H I ]M E S AND H U M O R E S O U E S 



EASTER 

Of Life, and more, 
The angels sung. 

For Life, and more, 
Spring's bells have rung. 

To Life, and more. 
The earth has sprung. 



'TIS SPRING 

Softly, gently, my Love touches her harp strings. 
Sweetly, tenderly, she sings — 
Of love. 

Firmly, quickly, I strike my harp long, 

As boldly, manfully I chant a song — 

Of life. 

Together our twanging harps ring: 
Together we joyfully sing 
Of God's promise of love, of life, fulfilled — 
Tis Spring! 



CHIMES AND HU MORESQUES 



IMPATIENCE 

IVe tarried long 
To hear you sing 

Your morning song. 

I've tarried long, 

Till now (nor wrong) 
Birds call on wing: 

'TVe tarried long, 

Too !" Hear, you sing ! 



REGRET 

Love, 1 passed thee by, 
Scorning thy trysting bower, 

On self I would rely. 

Love, I passed thee by 

Heeding not thy cry, 
Doubting thy plighted power. 

Love, I passed thee by 
Scorning thy trysting bower. 



CHIMES AND HU MORESQUES 



TO A LEMON LILY 

The wonders that the spring calls forth are naught 
To me, unless your countenance I see 
Among them all, for you foretell with bee 

That was by your rich prophecy soon caught 

As I, by spicy softness that has brought 

Us hope and sights of love that you decree 
Shall rule the summer day with harmony 

Not gained by magnates' dross of gold, but sought. 

O Lily, wafting fragrance once again 

To me, may I bow down to your pale gold, 

To your spotless yellow, not to pelf of men. 

Discolored by wrongs and blood and death — cajoled 

From lives oppressed and broken, lost — I ken, 
The fact that you exist has made me bold. 



CHIMES AND H U M ORESOUES 



THE FAILURE 

Come, come, O Death, I am fully thine : 
I met Love cautiously and she left me; 
I compromised with Life, he mastered me. 
I give my faith and love to thee, 
None compromise with thee, O Death! 



PRESENTMENT 

A shiver blows across my harp 

A song stirs from my lips, but dies; 

My hands with dread are numb — 

Why have you not yet come? 

I feel death holds you dumb. 
You must not fear ; I will arise 

And hasten to meet you. 

We will start life anew. 



THE POOL 

I lie as a still pool 
That mirrors but her sun's desire 
And gives him all her cool, 
Clear life to quench his passion's fire. 
Then,, having taken all, he hides his face 
In shame, showering all back with love and grace. 



CHIMES AND HUMORESQUE^ 



AT PARTING 

Each day a lover's dream. 
Each hour a silver song, 
Each night has Beauty's charm- 
When Em with thee. 

Each day will darker seem, 
Eadh hour a thorny prong : 
Each night stirs fresh alarm — 
When gone from thee. 



CHIMES AND HU MORESQUES 

CITY SCENES 

I. 

A Morning Prayer 

From the board-fenced back yards of a dusty block of 

flats, 
Through the high, criss-cross clothes lines, 
Straight upward grows a young Lombary Poplar 

Tree . . . 
So may my soul grow towards Thee, O God ! 

11. 

City Children 

In a window on a dark side street, 
A bowl of crocuses is growing in fiber. 
And blooming wanely — 
Children of the city. 

III. 

Flat to Let 

Through dingy windows 

You look at us 

Appealingly 

And ask to be given a soul. 



CHIMES AND H U M O R E S O U E § 

IV. 
Chewing Gum 

I stood on the curb, waiting to cross, at the corner of 
Fifth Avenue and Forty-second Street. A young 
woman, chewing gum, drove by in a racy red roadster. 
Without signaHng she stopped, and held up the long 
lines of nosing autos and green busses, while ^he spoke 
with the Traffic Officer. Her horn honked, her car 
swung around recklessly, and she was gone. 

A few blocks on I saw some laborers digging, pick- 
ing, cracking, drilling, lifting and loading the solid blue 
rock from a hole two hundred feet deep, where der- 
ricks were swinging carelessly around, and I thought 
of the chewing gum . . . how it is chewed and 
chewed until all flavor is gone, and then spat out and 
trampled upon by the tread of the city . . . 



CHIMES AND HUMORESQUES 

V. 

Home-Hunger 

Old Andirons in the second-hand store window, 

I am hoping to buy you. 

I am longing to search out my loved one 

So we might drowse and dream together near you 

Holding glimmering, glowing fire-logs. 



VI. 

Dust 

Friend, 

How often you have tried my forbearance 

By so unceasingly wiping the dust off everything. 

I think that you must loathe the dust. 

Because you unconsciously dread the thought of death. 

Let me have 

A little disordered corner to myself. 

It will remind me that my bones are to fall apart into 

a dry heap . . . 
And make me humble. 



CHIMES AND HUMORESQUE€ 



THE HARVEST 

1914. 

Nations, ye have sown in 
Doubt, suspicion, fear and 
Hate, in greed and in death ; 
Merciless the fiat: 

Reap . . reap . . reap 



Woe and desolation, 
Trampled fields and vineyards, 
Crumbled walls and turrets. 
Famines, plagues, and fevers, 
Bleaching bones and ashes : 

Reap . . reap . . reap 



Blood and ghoulish glory, 
Debts to burden coming 
Generations, starving 
Mothers, mangled children : 
Ripened red your harvest — 

Reap . . reap . . reap 



CHIMES AND HU MORESQUES 



DISILLUSIONMENT 

1914. 

A dying poet speaks : 

I've played my harp, 
I've piped my pipes, 
I've sung my songs. 

It has been hard to sing my life away; 

My body aching, then I sang of joy 

And with my soul distressed I sang to free 

From war — of peace I never knew, but that 

My children and my children's children shall j 

Inherit now through never ending time. ] 

My harp is mute, j 

My pipes are still, 

My songs forgot — j 

But what of that? the peace is here to stay. | 

My child, three days — or is it four? — I've heard ; 
This awful roar of storm that comes no nearer 

Nor goes away. No rain ; the sun shone some. i 

I have not heard the river's rushing waves — i 

But what's that shuffling, hurried tread ; the creak 1 

Of cart, the drivers shout — these and the far j 

Prolonged roll of thunders moody roar; j 

And if it were less terrible I could j 

But say that these are battle's groans for I i 

Heard them in youth and smelt its fetid breath I 

Among the ranks. My child, you say that all i 
My sons were called to go and help to save 
The city from the floods. Perhaps they're called 
For war. I think I smell the cannons' smoke — 

And still, the dreadful sound can be naught else ' 

Except the wrath of grudgeful gods' revenge. ; 

Ah, do not tell me that the peace for which :| 

I worked is — my sons may be murdered, \ 

They may be murderers ! j 



CHIMES AND HU MORESQUES 



RONDEAU 

Mourn not for Rheims : its charm was great. 
Its spires rose keen against the sky. 
For it mild peasants were taxed high. 
The land was kept dark by the prate 
Of priests who bowed to lords of state 
Until they taught a living lie. 

Mourn not for Rheims. 

Those old rules now assassinate 
Each other; lords and sees, they die. 
The dawn of brotherhood draws nigh 
And love shall overcome the hate. 

Mourn not for Rheims. 



SURCEASE 

Whence goes the army of the liberated souls 
Released by shock of cannon, 
Squeezed out by starvation? 

If I call them, 

Will they leap back to this war-racked world and smite 
their deceitful chiefs? 

But each soul answers mine : "I am at peace." 



CHIMES AND HUMORESQUES 



TO PROFITEERS 

I am an American 

Believing in the equality of man, 

Believing in the inalienable rights of man, 

Believing in the freedom of speech, — 

Principles for which my great-great grandfather fought. 

You, with your viperous attacks on straight-forward, 

visioned men loyal to American ideals: 
You, with your virulent, blind prosecutions of those 

who figfht for justice : 
You, with your tarring, lashing, and lynching of the 

innocent: 
You, with your thieving corporations and packers with 

their ro,tten meat for my comrades in the 

U.S.A.: 
You, with your grafters that hide like adders in the 

folds of my Flag: 
You, you damned tories! You deceitful copperheads! 
You, you greedy traitors ! 
Must I call you Americans? 



CHIMES AND HUMORESQUES 



SONNET 

I know the hills : How patiently they bear 
The cutting of the frosty winter day, 
How gladly they give up their rock and clay 
That spring may break away from winter's lair, 
How willingly they loose the springs and share 
Their cooling streams to damp the drought ; how they 
Yield autumn fruits in their own kindly way; 
How silently they bear nor breath a prayer. 

The hills ! the hills ! I know the faith they teach. 
The patient love that stays with them through rain 
Or sun ; through growth or blight, through calm and 

each 
Long strife. In answer to a new command 
I go and I may not return again — 
I will not falter while my hills still stand. 



HUMORESQUES 



CHIMES AND H U M O R E S Q U E S 



INVOCATION 

Laugh ! Dance I 
Laugh ! Dance ! 

Fools, 

Dubs, 

Pikers, 
Laugh and be saved: 
Dance and be free! 
Laugh, damn you, laugh! 



NIGHTMARE 

A crowd of women 

at a bargain counter 

pawing and clawing 

over a sale of vivid variegated cravats. 



IN AN INSANE ASYLUM 

Here I could dance an idyl to the moon, 

Or laugh a purple laugh, 

Or wear a yellow tie, 

Or an orange tie, 

Or a red tie, 

And not be guyed. 

Here I even might have a thought of my own 
And not be afraid 
That it would disturb 
Some one. 



CHIMES AND HU MORESQUES 

AT A CONCERT 

Click knit; click knit; click knit; click knit. 

Oh, woman, poke me in the eye, so I won't have to 
be distracted by your pink tangle of yarn when I 
would rather watch the players. 

Click knit; click knit; click knit; click knit. 

Oh, woman, poke me in the ear, so I won't have to 
hear your needles that can't keep time with the 
music. 

Click knit ; click knit ; click knit ; click knit. 



APPLAUSE 

I hang 

Suspended 

On the marvelous manly notes that still float through 

the hall 
And grab at the coat tails of the retreating quartet. 



CHOIES AND HUMORESQUES 



ON THE AVENUE 

This sophistication — this cynicism, wearies me 
Oh to see a bowl of gold fish! 
Oh to hear a canary singing ! 



CHRISTMAS CARDS 

Would Christmas 
Still be Christmas, 
If >lly' 
Didn't rhyme 
With 'holly'? 



CHIMES AND HUMORESOUES 



CHINESE PORCELAINS 

I spat in my Love's new blue bowl. 

She wept. 

Of course,! thought she'd brought it from the Five and 

Ten Cent Store. 
But no. 
She wept. 
She had paid thirty-five dollars for that Blue and 

White K'ang-hsi Fish Bowl. 
She wept. 

I bought her a Ming Glass Jar for her tears. 
I weep. 



ABSOLUTION 

I ate a little sausage, 

A sausage perplexingly small . . . 

But had I been a generous, big, fat hog, 

And had seen them stufif me into such mean little 

sausages, 
Would not I, too, want revenge? 



CHIMES AND HUMORESQUES 



AMBITION 

Love, prod me along. 

Don't let me become a bachelor like that fat 
fellow with the yellow rose in his lapel. 

He always swears 

when the elevator is out of order, and puffs and 
grunts and grows red in the face as he ascends 
the stairs. 

Love, prod me along. 



TRAGEDY 

O that I might have 
Married you! I like the way 
You say "Good morning." 



CHIMES AND HUMORESQUES 



MIRTH 

I have come to rest 

in the churchyard 

alone. 
Some day I will be buried here. 
When the little roots reach down and tickle me under 

the ribs, will I laugh? 



LOVE 

Some say, "Go that way. 

Others, ''Come this way.' 

I will wait for you. 



GARDEN 

My neighbor has a garden^ — 
scarlet geraniums in red tubs. 
Whitewashed stones. 
Pick them up. 
Throw them. 
Hit the dumpy hydrangeas — 

faces swollen with mumps 

and bandaged. 



CHIMES AND HU MORESQUES 



PERSPECTIVE 

Ah, Poetry, 

it seems 

the closer I hold 

you 

and the tighter I squeeze 

you 

the less you tell me. 



TO SOME POETS 

Push aside your whiskers 

so we can hear 

what you are talking about. 

Come out 

from behind those tortoise shell spectacles 

so we can see 

what you look like. 



RESULT 

My teachers \ 

were ground to dust — j 

glorious dust 
from which 

I^ . \ 

a sorry flower and frail, 

have grown. j 



CHI.MES AND HUMORESQUES 



VIGIL 

My soul, 

I lift you tenderly 

Lest I drop you 

And you should smash. 

My soul, 

I shield you prudently 

Lest the greedy feasters steal you, 

My soul, Thou Watermelon. 



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